Lifeless they fall apart… golden as our
precious art… My love sinks into a thick
grey veil of mist.
Trees… leafless trees… the epitaph of
the sun. What once was green presents now
grey and trist.
A gloomy grave… a foreseen death…
a symbol for our pain… drowned in a
flood of autumn rain.
Silhouettes of light astray somewhere
in the clouds. Ravens traverse, involving
withering shrouds…